Ugh. I'm growing tired of personal issues getting in the way.

 Over the past several months, as I've been housed in an Interim Housing Program hotel shelter, for homeless people, I've started to finally make some ground over some chronic, nagging issues that have been getting in the way of my better day for myself. For example, last year, I punched a thick wood wall panel, at a baseball dugout, essentially, over some disturbance that was playing out in my mind, and getting the best of me. I punched the board hard enough to break bone, (since the board, itself, didn't break, from me hitting it), yet my bones didn't break, even though it would have otherwise incurred a boxer's fracture, from my sloppy technique, having hit the board out of frustration, confidently, as it were, since I have steel plates in my hand, surgically implanted, dating back to another boxer's fracture, back around 2005-2006, or so. It was pretty debilitating. I had a hard time shaking people's hand, as a business person (I had to shake people's hands all the time, and I'd preferred not to have to explain the injury). 

This being the backdrop to my current situation, in that I'm certain that I incurred the same degree of injury (equivalent to broken bones), yet, latently present, in my structural formation of my body, in the facets of the supportive bones and joints that correspond with the punch to the wooden panel. I know, it seems silly, but it's difficult to empathize, or relate to a schizophrenic, I figure. I've been there, before, as a schizophrenia-naive person, to a sufferer-partner figure, who had schizophrenia, before my own real onset of schizophrenia, for myself. 

The voices had gotten to me, in other words. I was out on the street, and voices in my head were giving me a hard time, and I ended up I juring myself. It's taken a long time for me to see some positive results in recovery, but I sometimes spend entire days, out of a week, laying in bed, wondering, somewhat, why I feel like I have no energy. Since I'm always trying to quit using substances to prop me up, in life, it's somewhat a blind spot, and I found myself, recently, both denying that the substances "do" anything, at all - they do "do" something;" it's just that I had quit, temporarily, and I fell in to denial. That was the first signal to note, the other one was that, since they still "do" work, I stopped feeling like quitting, as much. It's a performance-basis sort of dependency. 

This sort of confusion is the primary reason I don't favor, or support, the "drugging" of the flocks, in order to train and tame them. I want their basis to be secure and wholesome, in simply arising from being fed well, and for being interacted with, in a considerate and paced, patient manner. I don't want the birds to become confused, as to what our purpose is, together, and hopefully others won't come along and ruin the birds' progress, as they're doing well, lately.

So, I go through these ongoing bouts of loss of ego, and denial, amidst hearing voices, although it's not as capable in persecuting me, as it had been, when I was out on the streets. It hasn't been a year, yet, since I've been housed again, but I've made good progress: my room looks impressive, for example, for a homeless person, I'd say. I finally just got back on my own unlimited Internet connection, and I'll be operating as best that I might, within a couple of weeks, or so, with a new iPad Pro in my hands, within sight, over the next few days - I've laid the groundwork for it. I go on, about my work week, trying to keep up with feeding the birds, as my daily benchmark of success, and I still have these days where I lay in bed all day, perhaps once or twice a week. It feels very physically strenuous; it probably is, considerably, somewhat strenuous, and I gauge, in my smart watches, that I track anywhere from 4 ½ miles per day, up to 11-13 miles, sometimes - just going around, feeding the pigeons and other birds (sparrows, is all, this time of year), and I also have to expend walking energy going out to buy groceries. It's pretty simple fare, and mundane, but I've worked out a fair rhythm and flow to my days. Sometimes it's the noises around me - the "certain" noises, that I can pinpoint to an actual person, or generalized location, nearby me; that is, to say, that these are "actual" noisy events around me, not voices in my head - these noises are a common disturbance for me, because of the volume. 

Anyways, I try to make my day work out, and I try to keep things working for the pigeons' best interests; i.e. keeping them fed, regularly, so that they can be trained, or trainable. They've made good progress, lately, as the library pigeons now customarily eat out of my hand, on a daily basis, as well as that they'll accept a stranger's hand, in hand-feeding them. It's a good sign; it's taken 7 years of upkeep in feeding the birds to get them to this point, in serendipity - either the birds were just ingrained-frightened of having affections for humans, meaning that they had no supportive nurturing environment to have them learn to accept humans as their caretakers, fully, perhaps due to neglect, or abuse - this type of learned behavior is difficult to alter; I find that it's best just to perform upkeep, at this stage, yet, some of the library birds' newcomers were a younger generation, which had not seen as much abuse, as had been going on, in previous years, so, some of them accept hand-feeding, and these ones sometimes seem to prefer the human element, in some part of their feeding time, for their day.

The pigeons at the DTLA Central Library enjoy some spoon-fed cheesecake.

I figure that it's a good sign, for certain; that these birds are learning new and dynamic behaviors that replicate on to the "strangers" figures, as I'd brought a companion along, on two occasions, so far, in which the birds are out of my companion's hand. It makes me ponder the possibility of the birds finally making it, in to becoming a transformational force, in the city; a force of healing recreation for people to enjoy. That potential is what keeps me going, on the days where I feel like I can't get up, keeping up the feeding of the birds, for the birds' sake, so that they don't unlearn these behaviors. Each flock has its own potential, in training, imaginably, and other flocks, such as Pershing Square, and the Figueroa at 4th St. underpass flock both also now recognize me, and they fly up to greet me, upon arrival, customarily, fairly regularly. It's a sign that they're learning, on top of having positive experiences imprinted upon them, as individual pigeons, in a flock; thus, they influence the flock's behavior, over time, as a whole. It's a decent and wholesome psychological foray; these birds, I figure - something that inspires critical thinking and psychologically-correlative thinking, in a "well" setting that's publicly accessible. 

Over time, I learn more about the pigeons, and they take me in, as one of the familiar insiders, as though I'm "one of them." 

Lenten practices at iPigeon.institute - 2024

Some people, here and there, over the years since iPigeon.institute had initially been founded, out of my renewed interest in feeding the birds, in town, posed the question, or they had surmised, perhaps, whether, or that - I feed the birds out of some kind of particular connection or affiliation with Catholicism, being that they ostensibly draw a connection between the birds being taken care of, with the imagery of Saint Francis of Assisi, who is typically pictured, in art and in sculpture, as being surrounded by small animals and birds. In addition, a seedy side of suspicions, upon ulterior motives, assertedly at issue, is suggested about the practice of feeding the birds, as we, here, in Southern California, of this generation, have, as well, come to associate Catholicism with child exploitation, and other tawdry deeds, such as homosexuality. I'll address these issues, in the following paragraphs.

I had just received the notion, early in the morning, today, as to update my blog (finally - it's been since late June, 2023, that I'd last published, I believe, since I died early in July (it was encephalitis, or something like that, this time, that I had fallen dead). These days, dying could be, kinda... like that, I've come to discover. Nowadays, out here, Fentanyl is on the rise, and, in my first instance of dying, I'd snorted a bag of what I thought was cocaine - a foolish thrill to marginally indulge, since I'm immune to cocaine intoxication and euphoria, like it used to be. This last time that I died, I had no recollection or warning of that I was going to fall unconscious - I simply woke up, naked, with tubes in me, in a dormitory-like room setting, with young nurses, about my age, and somewhat my peer demographic, although I was very uncomfortable about the situation, since I had no idea, for some time, where my belongings were - being a materialistic guy, whereas I'd been keeping up with important bills to support owning my belongings, it was a dire blow to my identity, I could feel. I was feeble, to some degree, when I had woken up, with some numbness on a couple sections in my leg, and my good hand was weak, in the forearm. Nobody gave me any information as to what had happened, or how I had gotten there. 

All of this being the by and large underlying premise of how I could possibly compose myself, given the consideration of that today is Ash Wednesday, as well as Valentine's Day - two days in which Catholicism looms large, on the calendars. People who are Christian, such as myself, don't make much of Catholic traditions - and, in the case of Valentine's Day, largely being a popular point of reference to a holiday, perhaps, yet, on our calendar, most standard holidays fall on days next to the end or beginning of the week; around the weekends - I'd suppose that this practice of dating national and federal holidays, in the United States, is potentially a context developed from out of our American society's roots in labor and manifest destiny, in which, as I'd come to ascertain - of that it's difficult, over time, in particular, to sustain a laboring lifestyle and workplace practice that works, throughout every day. Compared to Valentine's Day, which is traditional, still, in American society, yet moreso an arbitrary distinction, of a specific date, rather than a planned and more generally described "day, out of some numbered weeks," given the various calendar months. 

This being the case, I find that it's somewhat too misfortunate - this aspect of how I'd unexpectedly died, of all things, and self-sacrifice had been a heavy burden upon me, since I used my iPad Pro for accessibility issues, and, since my passing away had been a tragic experience for me. I'm still being burdened and stalked, in the streets, even by activists, in addition to gang members, although I do expect better outcomes for myself, and, I'd suppose, I could fairly much, not speak for others, since nobody presents themselves to me. 

I've been to mass, before, however, so I somewhat know how it is - it's a bit more liturgical and formal, in setting and ritual, at least, on a more generalized basis, as far as how the service goes. As far as content, I'd say that it really depends - various cultures have their own flavor, at times, so to speak, on religious services. I find that I'm in too dark a mood, on account of that I am a stalking victim, to care much about religion, or of things that people say, or claim to care about. There's nobody that's actually speaking to me, there's just voices in my head. People that speak to me, as voices in my head, are being identified, regularly, as being developmentally disabled, and bordering on retarded. 

 Alright, 

so, that's my story, as for this year. My significantly primary goal is to feed the pigeons, and develop them in to fine birds and poultry, over the years and decades to come. I get the feeling, as such, as though some people read an account like that, and - as well, "so easily" attempt to mount and claim a stake upon what they ostensibly "fear," in fearing death, of some inevitable outcome, whereas they're sitting or standing around, or something - gathering, perhaps, for the sake of stalking me, in town; in turn, upon religious standards, general practices, and expectations that people who are rational, the throughout society - get by on; "live by," in other words. 

I'm not a large-scale influential individual - I have vast and rich facets of my personality that I'm not addressing, even, for much of the time, out of my days, most commonly. I could communicate some various things on many topics, quite well, yet, beyond what I face, as obstacles to my civil liberties and rights, as an American citizen. I "suppose" not that people are so limited in sociability traits, and decency, solely; I imagine that, rather, some of the other "people" in my head, speaking to me, have a grip on rational outcomes, for people who refuse to repent from sinful acts. Death was easy enough - once I'd passed out, and, as I'd said, I didn't even notice it coming, this last time. The first time, it was like a desperate nausea, overcoming me, and that portion of things lasted perhaps a half hour. While I was unconscious, I didn't know, or realize anything further. Once I woke up, it was about 6 nights' stay at the hospital, and I'd eventually recovered, and moved forward, from where I was at, in life. 

Pain versus pleasure - which one is the beneficial feeling?

[somewhat a Bryn Mawr-esque styled sort of meditation, upon societal ”… umm, stuff” I guess]

At times, 

I imagine that people are trying to get a hold of me, remotely. I’ve come to associate the premise of an actuality of this sort of thing having become a viable belief, or reality, even, in the lives and minds of people. It amounts to, I would suppose, a greater actualization of some degree, or threshold - albeit, only a given measure and extent of identity or persona, I would say. On top of that, it is a limited-use basis concept to stage aspirations and beliefs upon, given the ongoing presence of human shortcomings and failures in life, of all sorts of various forms that exist - the year, at the time of this writing, being 2022 A.D. 

Imaginably, at some point in the future, human personality shortcomings and abnormalities (disorders) would be undone and conquered, as it were, much earlier on, in the core education topics and subjects which are covered in school, or prior to school-age learning. Also, imaginably, there possibly are limited demographics of people who are brought up, of this more faultless form of a human, in learning. 

It made me question a notion, this previous time that this perhaps otherwise “delusional” sort of belief, as it stands, as for myself: ought I act upon a call for help, given a premise of absolutely non-verifiable synchronicity? What if I show up and it ends up being an inappropriate hour? What if people are stalking me, out in public, or something like that? On one hand, I’ve been a faulty-enough person, to imagine, for myself, that various people or entities would have it out for me, and that these types of validated or seditious indulgences - take your pick: are potential realities of exclusion that a person would have to go through. In an ideal world, we would more verifiably capably determine, more fluidly, and insightfully, whether or not a person has entered our lives, or persists there, for that matter, for our benefit, or for the sake of consuming us, as a resource of flesh, and of a subjective design, rather than a project of labor, and trials of development, perhaps, that a human could aught be. 

In this instance, I was “somewhat” challenged, for this outreach premise to have occurred, to me, of a completely introverted and “directed energy” sort of basis about it. The person had had what might seem to have been a trivial problem, yet numerous seditions exist upon this given premise - on one hand, it’s a “most obvious” sort of request to have, for a person - forgoing blurting it out, on one hand. “We all have this need,” some people might think, yet it’s very difficult, I find, to truthfully discern, whether or not somebody would display a given “human” trait of need, or shortcoming, as it were, unless we, ourselves, are the superior intellect and visceral discernment figure, in the human dynamic concerned here. In other words, it’s not until we become a superior critical mind, on a topic, that we become the appropriate person to resolve the problem, for others. 

It’s confusing, a bit, to think deeply, and to wrap the mind, effectively, around this subject basis, since it implies that we capably accept burden, which stands against a more “simple” and pleasurable life, being lived out, however temporary that it may be, for that we help others, yet it’s somewhat unclear, on one hand, whether or not extending this help, unto a person, could potentially develop in to a symbiotic, mutually beneficial sort of engagement and interaction, whereas some people are simply lacking in morals, whereas other people are unduly burdened, and whereas they “would” help somebody, whereas other people “would” help, or offer their help, and the circumstances amount to that they offer a less desirable solution than a better-positioned, more aptly capable person could offer. 

The corollary to this topic is that we would have a difficult time discerning whether or not a service offered to a person is even necessary to a person who is in a position of a greater extent of maturity - of many, or at least several - measures of “need” that a person has, whereas we become more ethically considerate, and capable, of acknowledging, and tending to needs of ourselves, others, society, etc., for attaining a higher degree of serenity and maturity. On one hand, sometimes we’re coddled, of some form, even in to our adulthood. We’re given graces of forgiveness; sometimes people look the other way - that’s the way my mind works, in any case. 

On this day, however, the topic of “Reclamation” was the outstanding decree, and seeming spirit, of the moment. I became a paranoid schizophrenic, of this basis, of an even earlier (oh, yeah… I forgot) premise that had been established, of that it was riot preparedness day, out where I started my day, for doing my daily rounds. To be certain, it was a shaky mindset, of all sorts of battering about, that I’d taken in, to wind up eventually finding my way home, while fitting my day in to various “demands” and threats upon me, of my home life, [somewhat], that it is - stuff such as that I need to get home at a certain hour, that I’m sometimes held at fault for things that had already been discussed, that appear to be my “fault,” for having acted out, violently, whereas I’m also being treated as a sort of “false idol” of some sort, of various measures of merit and attainment - in essence, it amounts to that I develop upon aesthetics practice and material attainment. 

I understand. It’s an easily fault-worthy thing to be guilty of - materialism. On the other hand, I “could” still be an unapologetic, relentless drug addict, and be the subject of distributed humor, in circles of superior displays of having attained a greater degree of maturity on the subject. The latest joke being something, essentially, like “oh, yeah. This guy. He looked like he had a thermonuclear explosion happen in his face.” Ha. I know the guy, for that matter. 

Sometimes, that sort of guy challenges me. Should I help someone who has absolutely no cares for etiquette, on top of a viciously seditious and remorseless attitude, simply because I’m a better person? Hopelessly devoted Christian dogma would largely suppose “yes,” that I do show unconditional love, turn the other cheek, and offer graces of forgiveness, etc. On one hand, displaying charity had been shown, in Pew Research, in previous years, some study and analysis (statistics, as it were, or is), of measures of virtue, in various forms, that distinguish people of a higher social class. That was ten years ago, however - what does it matter? - that’s somewhat the sentiment on my mind, yet I don’t quite expect that people would give me a hard time, in life, about stuff that had happened 10 years ago, or further back. On one hand, I was criminally incompetent, and I did criminally incompetent things, although I did pay the price, in doing so - some of these folks would disagree, and they take it upon themselves, in remote sensing applications, to personally abuse me, and threaten various measures of personal space and security that a person would typically assume, in life, for having locked spaces, a quiet personality, and a generally modestly considerate lifestyle. Who would imagine that absolutely all people surrounding oneself is, here and there (oh, how cute, right?), so casually interested in stealing and defiling “my” (i.e. supposed, or given “person’s”) property and personal, private space? 

Perhaps I’ll update further, some time soon. I’m getting cold, and I’m outdoors, at the moment. It’s sunset.

Some hallmarks of the times: 

It is near to the time of having been Easter, and subsequently, Ash Wednesday and Good Friday had come to pass, as well. Now is the time of Lent, where people in the Catholic religion are presented with the challenge of giving up some sort of worldly attachment. In practical terms, it’s a virtuous premise. My criticism of this premise is that sciences, of various ones, had been primitive, or pre-science, so to speak - sorts of knowledge base and philosophy about them, whereas in the past several hundred years, or so, sciences had begun to demand the rigors of objective proof, of an incontrovertible nature. Another corollary issue about this premise is that drug abstinence becomes an obvious claim of a needed thing to give up, for Lent, whereas in the twelve steps and self-help paradigm, the saying is that we strive for progress, not perfection. Ostensibly, a particular group of individuals, archetypal sorts, imaginably - get rebuked, and abandoned, during this period of time, every year, for the fact that drug use, and everything that comes along with the subject - commonly would become a sacrificed habit, or practice - a worldly thing that had been disavowed. The slighted one’s revolt, in response, and a person such as myself becomes a target for stalking, and I get let loose, of various elaborate ruses of the mind, at a costly rate to the establishment, for the nature of the fact of the matter - being that I only latently, perhaps, come to understand that I’m being robbed of my conscious mind’s continuity and sensory experience, whereas life seems to happen seamlessly, as though I’m not having some sort of lapse of consciousness, similar to an epileptic event. Today, for example, my non-laced shoe strap tightener constantly became loose. Another thing that happens is that my asspad becomes loosened, from between my butt cheeks. It gives me the impression that I’d been violated, somehow. It’s an issue of concern, because it’s a noticeably “just had” occurred, sort of thing - that doesn’t happen every day, yet it definitely happens over and over, on a day like this. Perhaps for the sake of confessions being wrought out of me, for some sort of “somebody’s” pleasures? Perhaps. I would, ostensibly, be the one to confess, in honesty, and I commonly do that, since it had been requested of me. The problem is that some people are not ready for honesty, and they react against the season of self-sacrifice with antisocial behavior. 

Then, there’s the odd flows of vehicular traffic, and there’s simply more people out on the streets. On one hand, it’s all basically opposition to self-sacrifice, but how could a person identify, with certainty - the perpetrators, while there’s such diversity at stake, out here, in Los Angeles, California, USA? On one hand, the strangeness definitely happens. The side-chained narrative of paranoid beliefs is the supporting mechanism that thwarts complacency, although, to reiterate - these strange things “are” definitely happening. Technology is established, at this point, in time, sufficiently such that a person’s mind could conceivably - at a great cost, be robbed of one thing, such as time, whereas it would seem, nonetheless, that “nothing” had happened, yet some changes that are incontrovertible seem to keep happening, regardless of that such detriments to self-sufficiency and upkeep would typically otherwise be uncommon. 

I’ll update more, in a bit. It took me from sunset until 11:00 p.m. to get home, today. 

Update: 6:48 a.m., April 29th, 2022

Moving forward, to bring this all to a point, of some various sorts; I’ll try to do that, here. First of all, given how commonly my overseers, or perhaps, at times, my directed-life designers, as they might be termed - given how often some of these people have as much as sensory insight, as much as I do, or more - about my surroundings, because - let’s face it. This is high tech stuff. People could be teaming up on me, while looking at what I see with my own eyes, while knowing what I’m thinking about something. Most commonly, it’s about “losing” something, for example, amongst my mess, otherwise known as my crumbs and knickknacks. Conceivably, they have a database of when I was last in knowing possession of the object, and it’s databased somewhere, easily accessible for them. On one hand, it’s my punishment, for doing something improper, perhaps, which I do, somewhat, and I’m otherwise allowed to float by, for the day, in general. So they try to make me believe that somebody had stolen my stuff, or moved it around, or something, while I was out, while I used the restroom, or was bathing - stuff like that. They tell me that my housemates had done it, to invoke suspicion and ill-will towards them. Sometimes it works, hence I’d broken some holes in the drywall, here at the transitional living home. Yet, I hold my anger, and aggression towards others, because… hmm. Because of various things, yet, I suppose that the most prominent reason is that I’d like to not fall out of form, and do something uncharacteristic, in another part of my life, more important than the material world; crumbs and knickknacks of my room, as it were. 

Which brings things to a pertinent second point: people who practice “anything,” I’d say, or even just “do” something - are likely to “do” that thing, of some offhanded slight, perhaps a social faux pas, for example, and conceivably, it would slip out, at an undesirable moment, such as when an opportunity arises, for that it’s an uncomfortable thing, which is a realm of un-knowingness, I’d say. That being the case, when we’re uncomfortable, we don’t quite always know what to do. Hence, as for myself, I was a self-injurer, and I punch the walls, because I get that upset. Some of these people get me that upset. Over time, the message slightly comes across, I’d suppose, or I get bigger, tougher, I get better “lines,” in remote sensing, for persona development and marketing purposes, and I have to be okay with that good enough is good enough. I have to consider that other people aren’t doing so great, such as the guy who had the… yada yada yada sorts of stuff to think about. A lack of restraint is an undoing of a man or woman, alike. It makes people nervous, amidst the presence of such - a lack of restraint. It signals danger. It causes people to become uncomfortable, and frightened of showing up where that sort of thing happens. It makes people judge the superficial. 

Alright, that’s my little morning’s update, for the time being. That’s as much as I have in my mind, at the moment. 

Ooh! A big one, really quick:

These sorts of things, in needing to be surveilled, polls run, people queried, reactions and responses taken - the cumulative effect of it all is that it drives the need for Daylight Savings Time, which, on one hand, we benefit from, here in California - we somewhat bask in the indulgence of having a long, warm or hot day, from spring until fall, largely, and it’s a largely vertical expanse of land, our state of California. It’s a popular destination, yet with people so commonly rioting about, in the streets, and following people around, it gives the entire place a poor reputation, and we used to have a huge tourism industry, as a source of revenue. 

Anyhow, the Daylight Savings Time “belief” thing is one of the “beliefs” lobbed at me, to establish my paranoid persona | identity, au jour. On one hand, people seem to combat and warmonger around town, with the basis of burgeoning California’s place, in benefitting from Daylight Savings Time, but it’s unkind to other states, other nations, who get the short end of the stick, with short days, colder weather, and embattled trade provisions being made out, as a result. Take the European Union, for example, particularly in the context of the Russia | Ukraine war going on. There had seemed to be, anecdotally, for example, a bargain-rate cosmetics ingredients supplier, which I’d discovered on the net, and I came to find out that they didn’t accept payments from the United States, even though their website said that they do. It was disappointing, because I was hoping to get a good deal on some hard-to-find ingredients. 

All that being said, we’re generally not as productive as, say, farm workers, for example, who do labor, by the day - I know farm work. Several years ago, I went out to work on a farm. Now I’m a bit nostalgic for that opportunity, and on one hand, I’ve got to print some flyers up, and distribute them, and see if I can round up some work. 

People who don’t care, don’t work, I suppose. 

Okay. That’s all, for this re-update. Thanks. 

Some updated observations: Saturday, June 25th, 2022:

As I’m out trekking, in a nuclear watershed South Bay community, I encounter that I’d found a slight diversion in what would have otherwise been my standard route, out to the place I need to attend to, for a pickl app gig, and I made a turn down an earlier, more nested street than the main street, where most of the non-local traffic might likely enter through. I sat down for a moment, having spent a fairly time-consuming amount of the day in resting, in intervals, already, whereas, for being out and about, and for trekking, I encounter various pitfalls and hazards of inefficiency in performance. Here, the problems had amounted to establishing warmth (not so much, since I’d largely been on the move), maintaining hydration, which I managed well, come morning, when I woke up rather cold and apathetic towards moving around, due to subsequent inflammation - by making good use of my fleece-lined pantyhose that I got, from Amazon, by setting them, fairly fully, yet not completely all-over, which I found to feature good protection against hypothermia, while being on the move, yet also good insular warmth, from the fleece, which is both cushiony and absorbent, while the elastic synthetic outer layer provides easy wicker penetration and breathability. Now that I’m closer to my destination, I stopped to have a sandwich: peanut butter and green tea cookies, and I started to cool down, a bit, which was accompanied by a reminder of that I had stopped approaching my destination as a result of becoming electrically exhausted - the kind of exhaustion that merits that the muscles can no longer be flexed; me, as a load-bearing laborer, for trekking with bags. On one hand, the same weight can still be carried, yet, simply not so, in the case of that the various bags’ centers of mass remain the same, and I didn’t quite feel like rearranging the bags’ belongings, as it was already late at night, and also because it had been a long day (a long week, in fact, in preparing myself to pursue litigations, of a personal nature, for having been put out of my home). I was told that my better opportunities for managing the worth of covering ground, towards my destination - on foot, for the fact of that it didn’t really seem as though buses were running, and for that I may have literally been an acute targeted victim of stalking, for various or unknown reasons, since last night, or yesterday, being that there was also associated unrest in downtown Los Angeles - the more unlawful gathering sort of unrest having happened at night, whereas I left, for the South Bay, to complete my pickl gig.

Having an existential crisis in front of someone is only attractive to socially immature individuals.

 On one hand, I suppose that

it would be the case, that I thought about attraction, in the context of having met an attractive young lady today, although I shrugged off the superficiality of the encounter by walking away. She had walked up to me, for that matter - it wasn’t quite me that had met her. 

The thing that was distinctive about her was that she was going through a borderline personality disorder moment; she spoke about regrets over having lost someone (something like that), and that she was looking for her husband - a vague reference, but in this case, it could have meant that she was already with somebody who was taking care of her. 

The point being, is that I felt like many types of guys I would imagine, in life, even at the age that we are - amongst those I had grown up with; I just turned 40 a few weeks ago. She was less than half my age. I recognized signs of that she damages relationships, on account of her not paying attention to people, and possibly, for that matter, she has an excess of narcissistic supply, in being an attractive young lady, of her sort (I won’t get in to details, for the sake of privacy). She was perfectly adept in firing up an encounter with a stranger - a useful social skill, yet I knew that I would probably fail miserably, in my own eyes, as well as in the eyes of others, should it have been the case that I try to pursue her romantically. She was engrossed with some sort of dilemma that she didn’t quite enumerate for me, and she was somewhat flighty, herself, in having so much to talk about, yet she wasn’t all that well composed, or considerate, in explaining exactly what was going on. This sort of person has problems in relationships - because they would come so easily, and to her, as a narcissist, she would be capable of easily undoing the relationship, should some kind of unsustainable distraction take her by the reins. 

I somewhat felt that I could be a simple, temporary confidant, or slight mentor, for her, if I thought of some things to say to her, although she wasn’t all that interested in stuff that I had to talk about, such as my fragrances, and stuff, although she did say that I smelled great, with the fragrance that I was wearing.

So I ended up walking away, asking her if she cared to join me, and she went about her own way, just as easily. This is the test of non-attachment qualities of a person; a thing that establishes criteria of detachment and professionalism, or maturity, in the subject of psychological wellbeing and best practices. 

Update: April 21st, 2022: despite making my best efforts to keep the young lady out of my head, the young lady seemed to pop up, in my mind, here and there, as I would make my common rounds about town, and she was portrayed as various things, in my mind - many of those things pertaining to violence and coerced sex acts, as well as other tragic outcomes for her that she would have conceivably run in to, being that she is an attractive young lady. I somewhat simply believe that many guys would act like that towards her, for having much less experience and less of a tempering of sexual attitudes; the streets are a dangerous place, at times, I felt. I also heard that she had put herself out of her home, and that she stayed with her parents, and that she was looking for her husband, for example, and that that would have been their housing accommodation - a charmingly romantic thing to suppose, and her parents had not wanted her to fornicate with a partner in life, ostensibly, in a sinful manner; that is to say, that the young lady was willing to sacrifice having access to the privileges of home for living in a tent, in their back yard. I heard things such as that she was one of the visitors to my room, where I live, where perhaps the home’s manager had been allowing people to enter in to my room, because they were fascinated by it, and perhaps she did do that, and she became infatuated with the notion of meeting with me - ostensibly, a far cry from understanding if this is true or not.

The Psychological Criminality in Unstructured Remote Communications Intents.

Being that I was not formally brought up with any nurturing environment instructions upon, nor mention of beliefs associated with remote communications and remote electronic psychological abuses (as they commonly presented to me as), I constantly falter in life, of failing in properly accommodating circumstances tantamount to attended to a “perceived” crisis, that it were; that it commonly is, as a topic portrayed to my senses. 

In my upbringing, the sanctity of the human body was educated upon Christian morals, beliefs, and values. 

1 Corinthians 6:19-20

Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God?

25 Bible Verses About Body Is A Temple (NIV) - Reformed wiki

While the technology upon which remote communications and remote sensing is founded upon had existed for perhaps around 80 years, or so, at this point in time (2022 A.D.), the adoption of such technologies had been fed through various nations’ intelligence programs, and I commonly observe fervid nationalists of a foreign intelligence (non-traditional - within the context of an American upbringing of this generation, our cultural heritage, as Protestants, and as standardized in United States of America’s public school teaching). Remnants of first-generation immigrant parents’ cultural disparities and arrogance are diagnostic criteria seen in schizotypal and narcissistic behavioral and personality disorder-symptomatic individuals who (believably) present positive symptoms of schizophrenia, and of the general will, belief, and volition to perpetuate the psychological faux pas of asserting superiority, dominance, aggression, and persecution upon a targeted victim.

The laws of entropy are correlative, within this type of personality disorder, in understanding a formative and fundamental basis in establishing a behavioral conditioning methodology and engagement protocol in reprimanding the psychopath at issue, whereas, in my case, as an observer and victim alike, in remote communications disputes and targeting, I persist through the crisis and trauma, generally as a patient and perseverance individual, whereas I also, over extended periods of experiencing such a criminal sort and extent of improper attention and sociability, oftentimes find myself defaming people publicly, in hopes that the threat of social shame, in consequences, would eventually condition the perpetrator suitably, once I had come to establish a generalized belief that anti-social characteristics and personality traits could reasonably and historically have had been established - formal and commonplace methods of communications having failed in eliciting a response from the individual.

Remote Sensing Environment User Deprecated Practices - The Freudian Slip of Doing Something as Though It Matters

In remote sensing observation and participatory environments, there may (at this point in time, within the cell that is collectively managed and occupied by myself) be seen to be an undesirable degree of conflict resolution abandonment. 

Details aside, the more fundamental calculations and consequences of the pursuit of adversarial techniques in psychological abuse in socialization through remote sensing, is the higher imperative. Being that the victimizers fail to improve their outlook in life, and aberrant psychological dilemmas of a dark nature persist in the perpetrators’ lives, rather than that joy is found amongst community and society. 

In this day and age of technology, where intelligence can be nurtured and developed upon the extent of resources, with lateral and vertical markets of human collateral in knowledge base and servile utility, much more rational and equitable identities are a more sustainably beneficial and productive ethic to pursue, whereas rewards in technological developments of third parties and oversight committees, such as increased cloud compute attributions and merits, of being afforded the cost of time, energy, and human resources becomes a more viable end and means, in life, in an economy of otherwise uncertain and aspirational “still (at this point in time) context, within the scope of social status attainments, financial wealth, and in many aspects of personal wellbeing, whereas materialism and experiential devotions compete with each other, as a primary theme of much of the conflict that had been observed, up to the present time. 

In to an indefinite future? The question, in and of itself, is a quandary, much to be likened to a long-standing characteristic of the substance abuser, of emotional abuse, to mental health stability’s uncertainty - in a likewise deprecated practice of “promise,” which loses significant worth in a social economy that is not founded upon honest and forthcomingness in humility, whereas people value detrimented and misfortunate superficial gains in life, upon abnormal psychology fixations, such as the pursuit of narcissistic supply - a pleasurable environment to stage upon, yet faulty and superficial, on one hand, cruel and unnecessary, on the other hand. 

With psychology at topic here, I had established, upon reflections and reflexes, of my psychological standard, as much as that these dilemmas; dilemmas and conflict, even, (perhaps), of a fundamental nature, to form a corollary residing trait of literature that reaches back as far as Sigmund Freud’s writings and finding; my experience being drawn up, and designed upon the machine learning environment of “having experienced” being a social psychology observation subject, with psychological abuses towards me being as that the subject is deemed to be a favorite (so to speak) of a persecutory agent [redundant]. All things considered, not all of us had studied university level introductory psychology, which would, of course, mention and assign the works and findings of Dr. Freud, nor had many people gone through conflict resolution courses in life, which would reasonably suit an emotional maturity milestone age demographic tending more towards early teenage years, in society, with “teenage angst” seeming to be an accessibly familiar claim upon this assertion. 

Given that my recent dispersions that had acquired and developed much attention, appreciation, and fascinations, of an excretory “topic” nature about the context, a Freudian claim upon the underlying psychology at issue here is quite apparent. Being that abuses, of a remote sensing tactical nature, lend themselves to a “standoff” type of portrayal and representativeness of itself, I offer the victim’s experience as evidence, to an assertion, for as much as that bathroom duties of simply even “getting up” to use the restroom, as a trait of what is considered common and accessible for people of our society - it leans in to violations of basic human and civil rights.

A case for defending Russia, throughout the warmongering of early 2022,

 It’s a quite easy topic to nitpick at, on one hand, but regardless, look at some of the news topic trends that make headway, out here, in the U.S.; in Los Angeles, at a minimum. 

I’m referring to the staged displays of pompous destruction, the “right” of the madman, the mob rules directives and concessions that are made, and what; all that much, of Los Angeles, by and large, is greatly changed, over the past several years? On one hand, we don’t seem to know all that much about Russia, collectively. I happen to be a slight insider in to the culture of Russia, having had been acquainted with, befriended, and eventually having married, for a short time, a young native Russian lady, who happened to speak English quite well, and intelligently. (We broke up because I couldn’t stand her having her free time, and I was a distrustful crack cocaine binger, throughout the whole thing - she lost her patience with me on that sort of context, about things). 

Some pics pertaining to that stage and time of my life.

First of all, I’ll cover some things that are good about Russia. I’ll assume that perhaps this whole news story “coverage” thing is just collateral damage, for shipping them our dope, or something like that, and things had to turn up bwammo, for the sake of propaganda - even just “perhaps,” as such, but that’s what’s coming to mind, in writing this out. 

An open-ended apology, for recent personal shortcomings.

 Being that I run a .institute, there are certain expectations and responsibilities to uphold an ethical purpose, in the course of my doings and daily life, much of which is intermingled work and personal life setting and environment. I’m expected to behave responsibly, and not mar the public-facing image and reputation of the company, which is led by myself, and, as such, it ought to stand on its own. 

Recently, I had a counter-intelligence tactical ruse set upon me, and I became caught up in the moment, and somewhat subject to entertaining uncommon and unbecoming temptations. All things being said, some people like to exert power over others, and witness the outcomes of having influenced somebody into foolishness. This was the sort of circumstance I found myself in, and fortunately, it ended up just being a cold night out, for myself, and a homeless person’s day, out on a lawn, somewhere in West Hollywood. It could have been worse. 

I’m asking, in essence, for a less stimulating set of expectations and circumstance for myself, as I’m largely on the brink of absolute poverty of various sorts. Sure, perhaps I do well, at joking around, at times, but I do fall victim to certain types of shortcomings, but all in all, I’m fairly astute and well-intentioned in many of the things that I do; I wouldn’t do better to pursue some sort of personal identity boost and prominence of fame over virtue, in other words - I’m a good working-class man, not a public figure, per se. I can’t reasonably fulfill all expectations of myself, and keep on with a proper personal conscience and a respectable reputation, if I indulge in pleasing some people’s intentions and influences upon myself. Some of these things cause contention, and being that some of these things are superficial desires, there’s oftentimes little care, as to the outcome of what pleases people’s momentary fascinations and interests. 

Let’s be spirited about the greater picture in life that we have, as Americans, and Build Back Better, as our nation’s leader would have us do, and not joke around so much. There’s work to be done. Not everything that comes to pass deserves being commemorated, but please try to uphold an honorable reputation and influence over others that is considerate of the common good and need in society.

The Rise of Social Work Policy Implementation in Los Angeles, CA, USA in the 2020’s.

 Some people may have been left wondering: 

What happened to things, in the way that they used to be handled? 

All of a sudden, acts and behaviors that used to seem unthinkable; distant from the perceiver, separate, as that such things would seem to fall into and encompass other people’s lives, rather than our own, become, by various means of introduction, induction, and casualty, therein, more familiarized, with more personal relevance, proximity-wise, and with threatening impact upon the subject’s personal sense of security and risk potential. Increased risk upsets former plans, aspirations, and partitioning of resources of a person, caught unaware. 

In Los Angeles, California, USA, we are considered to be a melting pot societal destination and lifestyle of culture afforded to us. The types of threats that seemed further away and separate from our lives are perhaps calculated out in risk-aversion methods, such as various forms of purchasable insurance policies, as far as that a generalized consumer solution could be imagined. The sorts of endowments afforded by such measures are significant: therapies, of various academic, professional, or medical licensure, degree, or certification - for example, are some of the benefits that are more easily within reach, given various forms of archetypal, or “standardized,” (professional, for example) upbringings, or lifestyles, given that work benefits such as private medical coverage are included, subsidized, or incentivized, as part of an employment package. Growing up as I had, I had medical insurance benefits that saw to it that I received orthopedic work, dentistry, and mental health therapy and psychiatric oversight, as the most prominent needs that were accommodated during my childhood. 

Despite this, nothing could have prepared me (as I’d “put it,” off-handedly), for the onset of schizophrenia in my life. It hit me like a traumatic, persecutors shock experience, with none of the perpetrators owning up to the fact that they had ever -and continue forth, in committing towards me, as well as my loved ones; even casual and professional network connections and contacts - to this very day. The corollary to this stand-off(-esque) claim about these “others” is that they “do” admit to doing these sorts of things (such as “being” the voices in my head), yet the whole dilemma and drama about anything to speak of, whatsoever, happens - yet even still: as voices in my head. In person, these people would never admit to doing these things that they find to be characteristic of conflicting attitudes and behaviors; even defiant and oppositional - on one hand, the people “do” realize that their acts are, at these problematic episodes, at issue: shameful, spiteful, cowardly, bold, and fearless, however intermittent and unsustainable these feats of grandiosity and delusion may be. On the other hand, the characteristically borderline personality disorder and anti-social traits of the behaviors are denied, in to indefinite extents, unto life, still to come. It’s a primary shortcoming of character such that is deemed to be one of the hallmarks of a failure, in the contexts and standards of the 12 Steps literature of recovery, self-help, and sobriety.

The voices had begun in the week, or so - in particular, leading up to September of 2012, and for the days beginning the month. I quickly became ensued in a cruel, militaristically styled, public-shaming sort of forum and by-and-large witch-hunt sort of atmosphere and thematic emblems of figurative form and composition, as far as what construed the content of the voices I was subjected to. It sounded like a dramatic, real-life exposé of network news personalities, talk show programming public figures, as well as what seemed like viable “actual” civil servant authorities - all taking jabs, by and large, offering negative conditioning, as the defining folly of man that was come to be celebrated, and practiced - myself, fairly much illiterate in this sort of conjectural drama and persona - whereby, since then, I’d become an intermittent Twitter demagogue, bordering upon a technological golden age’s banner flop-job; a court’s jester, of sorts, where abuse had become the new standard of interaction (attempts), defilements and ever-higher stacks upon brinksmanship, in displays of irreverent and unproductive flouting of the people’s common ego, and observation-participant thresholds of standards of acceptability were pushed to unexpected limits, and beyond, at times, for the fact of the matter of that, in many cases, the wins and gains were short-sighted, and cheaply won, being that men were made better, by those better than them, through the machinery at use, in these cases, and few people had much of anything of a long-standing intelligence to be gained, or admired, about these sorts of “stand-off” situations, as I’d put it, before, whereas I was more well-founded upon trying to eke out a better self, of some sort, that had peeked through the hours of neglect, abandonment, and disregard, and little by little, I embodied the better traits of men and women who treated me properly, and appropriately, regardless of the tone of voice, or authoritativeness that would be construed, from such a sort of treatment. 

That being said, the backdrop to the hysteria and paranoid establishments that had embedded themselves, with subversion at the forefront of design, and sometimes, with malicious and reckless blind-sighted goals, of a slapstick nature, as less well-intentioned, less skilled, or less educated people took the helm of controlling my mind, at times, seemingly also of that I was being observed by numerous, unspoken others, of any and all types of relations, in life, was well-provisioned, in the nearly-popular culture literature and publications, of news media, and of the blogosphere - I’d suppose that esoteric topics have their place in time, for many, or several - at least, different types of odd and obscure minds, and this moment happened to include me, as one of these monstrousity-victimized, problematic sorts - hyped up in the news articles and publications of the time, as symbolic forms and archetypes, such as the Monarch, or the butterfly - something like that. There was extensive “cult” literature, to that effect, that somewhat expounded upon the then-more “secret,” less-well disseminated information and documents (until this point in time - it was a point in time of intrigue and exposure of formerly classified programs and documentation - with the age of the internet coming of age, of sorts, and with people’s minds, in the digital world, having become curious as for solutions and answers in life, with regards to psychology and identity typology kinds of distinction; forensics, semiotics, and persona errata being valuable subjects of inquiry and discovery, for the young millennial generation). 

At some point, long story short, (I’d documented it, largely, on my Twitter and Facebook accounts “back then,” the madness and criminality that had consumed my life, post-onset of positive schizophrenic diagnostic criteria (2012) - caught up with me, and I’d failed in life, in terms of a more material consequence that had overcome me - various incidents and episodes of incarceration, probation, involuntary hospitalizations. I’d said that it constituted failure, perhaps mostly as my experience of these times spent removed from society, on account of that so much of my life was fulfilled and better accommodated in the form of technology, the internet, and through devices that I’d used, over the years. A recurrent theme of my persecutors was that I’d lived a life too rich, too young, and too familiar and relative to themselves; whereas I’d neglected them, or abandoned them, or at least the claim, thereof, whereas I was an oblivious, and criminally incompetent, “cad,” as I’m sometimes currently called. 

In any case, the issue of politics, of the lower and lesser social classes, of a proximity fallacy of presuming that being physically nearby an event supposes that it’s also more primarily significant, impactful, or important - some or one or all of these traits, about the situation; is it me? Is it us? What’s so important, somehow? Who really cares? Who really knows? Who isn’t somewhat similar, at least in some contextual expanse, of a topic subject… is this moment the defining moment of creation, itself? For some humor-infused, turn’t up “cadres” of “guys,” or “people,” (although the problematic people, for me, are commonly guys, but here and there, some women seem to have a problem with me, or about me), it appears to be the case, as that the thread about this paranoid schizophrenic positive symptoms diagnostics thing pops up, in the forefront of my mind, as that sometimes, women are known to henpeck, and be gossipy, behind my back. I’ve tried peeking, to see if people are actually talking about me - on one hand, the concept and notion of it “exists,” per se - it is a thought that I experience, in my head; or, more truthfully, rather, it’s an experience that I perceive - distinct, in formative nature, from a “thought,” in and of itself - for that it has a cognition and volition completely independent of any expenditure of energy of my own mind - quite a novel thing, for a guy who’s most commonly a loner, and introverted, as I am, yet only sometimes. It’s this sort of reality interaction that’s so commonly under observation and scrutiny - a novel thing, in and of itself, yet, at times, scarce, whereas we live in a world where human interactions are commonplace and widespread displays that we can peruse and experience, this being Los Angeles, CA, USA, a world unto it’s own, at least, in miniaturized form, if we are to recall that we are also a global society - rich in culture and imagery, and not always cheap. Remember the formative traits of good economics - there is worth in scarcity of supply, implying that a thing is valuable, for what’s offered, and for what’s being offered, for ownership, or experience - something along those lines. 

Anyways, I’ve said a lot. I don’t suppose that people would hold much of a candle for my overextended claims and statements, as far as right now. Maybe something else… something more accessible, and stuff. Maybe I’ll update, later on. 

A 12 Steps 9th Step Reflection - What am I supposed to do when people simply can’t be honest with themselves?

 Being a situational minority, [living in South Los Angeles] myself - “visually” (although only “somewhat;” I do sometimes get myself casually mistaken for being Hispanic), I get a lot of flack. 

It’s the kind of thing that would have potentially framed our collective and generalized minds, for having been part of the dragnet downward spiral that so many of us face, for having this faulty, anti-social, mistaken, misfortunate, misgiven, mistreated, maladapted, disregarded, or sometimes, we were simply just the one picked out to be bullied upon, for a long stretch of life. Many of us, in the smallest demographics, here - the 1-4%ers; the silent intelligent minds, the secretive genius, the condescending outperformer, or some sort of spiritual misfit, perhaps. 

As the fungus, for the sake of wood rot - in healing the stuff of nature that consumes us, as the tree of life, perhaps, that we, as intelligent humans are, we tend to a greater sustainability, for having made the sacrifice that signifies and represents our material loss in life - for nature to persist.

I was some sort of combination of these things, to varying degrees. My teachers might commonly have characterized me as an “A” grade mind, but a “B” grade achiever. It would be quite ostensible, as such. I was hit, as a child, and treated cruelly, at times, by my parent authority nurturing environment. Although I was young, I knew, intelligently well enough, that I was being mistreated, and that there was an unreasonable expectation of that I ought have not violated whatever boundary it was that I had pushed too far on, in acting out, or whatever the case might have been. That was back when I was around age 6, or so, when I started to come to understand that I was being held hostage, of sorts, and that life is a cruel endeavor, at times. My happiness and enjoyment was ephemeral, and sadness came as a much more common and ostensible expectation of myself

Now, at age 39, I do broadly superficial gestures towards a mindset of reserved superiority, should that card need to be pulled, in order to one-up myself, in a situation, whereas I’m narcissistic, at times, and I feel that simply accommodating others I come across, superficially and casual that it may be, I do have a somewhat limited basis and “license,” as it were - to engage with, and exchange acquaintanceship with, as far as how I might ever (or, actually) expect to get to know a great many more individuals in the localities in which I frequent. On some level, the diversity of Los Angeles, and surrounding areas, is a beautiful thing - we get a small taste of it, here and there, as children - some of us had interaction-based socialization profiles, some of us had cultural endowments, of our learning and travel experience, in our youthful developing years, and others - well, to be honest, I somewhat simply don’t quite know. There’s not much in terms of disclosure, when it came to so many people. It was bwammo; butt shittle, for sure, and bwopp dick? Plik plok. 

That’s essentially how I do some people. What else am I supposed to do? They seem to realize it, and they truly just go for it, in this slight game of alluding to a secretive shame of non-disclosure of what’s humble and slight about us; each unto ourselves, but as for myself, I feel as though I’m simply capable, in being an honest person, whereas I seem to attract a lot of pent up frustration and aggression towards me, as well as to my personal belongings, possessions, art work - even my right of way and freedom of volition, out in public. Ought I mix it up, a bit more, and get out of town, for that it’s slight localities that I frequent? I’m trying to do something with these pigeons and sparrows, though. I feel that that’s the crux of what separates and distinguishes me from these “others,” casually “majority” that they might be, for as ephemeral and unsustained that it might be, when it comes down to constancy, faith in, and loyalty to a purpose - it’s sometimes that it is quite obvious that people had been talking about me, in some group or networked small and trivial collective or establishment of people - on the other hand, I have the largest demographic of spiritually faithful compatriots that I might believe exists, for being a Christian man; perhaps here and there I entertain discovering various nuances of the faith, and demonizations, but these are simple numbers and statistics that we had all grown up with. 

Somewhere along the way, young people had decided that popular beliefs and establishments were disdainful, and averse to the common man’s wellbeing, whereas true wellness was largely characterized as a shameful “hurt” area; it hurt to have affections for others, to achieve, in the face of others who had not serendipitously found good fortune, well enough for everyone’s attention spans (how commonly does serendipity happen?). People who had achieved some good or gainful new establishment, as for their own take - were seen as the rightfully scapegoated ones. That’s how I feel, in any case. It happens to women, of a certain sort, all the time, and who likes to be incorrect, or improper? It’s a humbling thing, for many - discovering the consequence of “God’s” purpose and judgment in our lives, yet I hear confessionals all the time, and I have my own notions as to how and why these sorts of interrogative processes come to be characterized and fixed in to the mind of an unwell and unstable psychological archetype - ephemeral that it may be, it does happen quite commonly, for the great many amongst the few of us, that there are, in some instances. 

The truth is most commonly a great and celebrated thing; it’s a thing of joy, good humor, and elation - good people can’t imagine something so awful and horrid, such that it ought not have been done. At what point does the unrelenting bold one simply cease to persist in asserting dominance over differences between themselves, and a great many others? People have access to richly developed minds and intelligence forms of much of history and establishment that has been recorded in some form, whether it be visual, artistic, literary, or of the other ways and means in which we communicate and confer symbolism and meanings unto others. 

The MKULTRA program’s purpose and place in society, at this stage, day, and age.

5 years of abuse, to wipe the slate clean, then comes discipline and composure, after common-law acquaintanceship and exposure to appropriate cultural and social graces.

Given that it’s largely touted to be a CIA program, here in America, it would presumably be a implementation of an internationally-well regarded standard and expectation upon the public, given distributed means of organic growth and dissemination. That being said, it is an attainment in military and civilian intelligence that spans the work of at least several various nations, with Great Britain and Russia also widely regarded as contributors to establishing standards and protocols upon such contexts of intelligence work, having established much, at the time, in terms of psychological and social sciences, in complement to the extents that the MKULTRA program covers.

These things go largely ill-desseminated, on account of the degree of personal responsibility in willfully outing such demonstrations of an abusive nature, that the program ostensibly covers, in the spirit of correcting subversive and ill-maintained nurturing environments that wind up contributing to the prevalence and presence of the schizotypal psychological anomaly in subjects, whereas the work needs to be done, in society; ostensibly it offends the progression of neglectful and irresponsible personas in proliferation and in positive expression of such psychological unwellness. For having made gains in acquiring and disseminating scientific purpose and placement, in society, enough for one’s own degree of responsibility, given reasonable extents of personal fault and shortcoming that the case may have been, perhaps personal fault had not been of issue, of the founding personnel behind such programs, in their deployment and in implementation in society. Perhaps they are simply upright and astute individuals, who need not have an overextended degree of need to contribute means and ends, in life, in other words, as far as supporting the decree of that why, and of “that, in and of itself,” programs of psychological abuse are implemented in society, with documentation and purposes being unclear to many, at this point in time (early 2022).

The generalized common prognosis of a schizotypal condition’s sufferer is an early death, as it’s widely been discerned, following psychological sciences inquiry and outcomes. To be certain, some traits of the schizotypal condition are empowering, to the subject, whereas some people, of a faulty volition and undue burden upon societal resources, attempt to subvert common decency, and standard human expectations, at this point, having come to believe that remote sensing telepathy is a currently viable and rational volition in life, eschewing common decency and standards of expectations of individuals in society, given that this sort of topic is of higher education than public schooling had afforded us, in the years leading up to the new millennium, whereas the impulse to express one’s self is both obscured, to a significant degree, in terms of a respectable standard of decency, whereas humility is much easier to disregard, and fanciful temptations of the visceral experience and of superficial and fleeting pleasures, in life, seems much easier at hand, while consequences, characteristic of our human nature, are much more easily conceived of, and less traumatic, in acceptance, on account of that, oftentimes, the remote sensing subject, and schizotypal borderline personality typology as facet and trait of the subject, seems implausible, and inconsequential, for the sake of disavowing the significance and importance of reading the individual as a visually-subject and consequential adherent, upon rational standards of expectations, at this point in time, given that this is a topic of higher learning. In other words, it’s simply easier to act and respond irresponsibly and foolishly,, given a lack of physical presence in the victimizer’s truthful and rational life experience. Many times, the schizotypal sort will appear, to a profiled and targeted victim, of a significantly non-present type of persona, demonstrating the volition and will to abuse somebody, whereas they disregard the capability of the victim to interpret such behavior as plausible, viable, and eventually, as representationally accurate of the individual abusing them, for the fact of that such profiles of victimization are conceivably present, for the sake of informing the public; for the public’s best interest.

Try it again! We’ll deal you a mean row. 

There were some things in life that I had not learned, well enough, of an anti-social behavioral sort that I had acted out. It was not until I was duly corrected, with physical (or otherwise) sort of violence and psychological that had strongly conditioned me against repeating such a behavior, scarce that it may have been - it was scarcity that was present, of an unfortunate nature. A very common expression of a positive-expression paranoid schizophrenic is that abusive behaviors of a delusional and significantly faulty nature exist - this is the furthest degree along the anti-social behavioral spectrum of the borderline personality disorder - that they attempt to portray admirability, in being dominant, yet faulty, in enacting such a sort of behavior that is dislikable, while in the presence of innocent others (casualties), simply for having been proximally nearby somebody, of a trivial degree of irrational consequence which is deemed improper for the general public.

I had placed myself in the presence of the general public, for the sake of a basic trust of people, upon a near experience of death, just a week prior to this current date of publication, early on, in the new year of 2022, whereas paranoid schizophrenia is a more deeply troubling condition. The paranoid schizophrenic’s presence in a person’s life signifies an irrational and burdensome claimant upon the victim, given that, to the most vast degree, it is implausible that a helpful mental health professional is the one being accessed; rather, that the victim had been selected based on superficial traits, social class, and opportunistic aspirations; the victimizer, hoping to make ephemeral and patchwork gains in life, for having come to believe that remote sensing encounters are viable means of coming to understand the sufferer’s needs in life, for being psychologically u,well, whereas the propriety of law, the justice and rehabilitation departments, and due process be observed,  having come to falsely believe that they ought not seek a rightful and due process unto themselves, for coming to believe that exacting justice is their own rightful consequence and volition to pursue in life, whereas more common and accepted authorities are somehow ignored, or disavowed, of their rightful place in our lives, having come to believe that they ought to, rather, enact justice, in and of themselves. 

Who is determined to have the propriety of the MKULTRA program at their claim and stake in life? In my opinion, and in my personal experience, it is the most benefitted subject, given the highest degree of personal responsibility, for having made improper gains in life; perhaps only as one of the archetypes of such mind-control programs, given that, on further remembrance, that there are at least a dozen or more archetypal mind-control subjects, given the literature. The point being, is that we had all had our place and purpose, in life, and had hereby expended the utility, desirability, and solubility, profitability, and prognosis of outcomes in life, to most rational and conceivable ends. We had reached the end of our ropes (or lives, in and of themselves), so to speak, and we had been chosen for corrections, based on that fruitless measures had become the characteristic and determinable hopeless outcomes of our lives, yet that we had pursued these measures to cruel and psychologically faulty and unwell extents in life, whereas we would come to be afforded a degree of grace, and redemption, for becoming remote sensing subjects of psychological battery and inquiry. 

With overt forms of abuse being disallowed, so to speak, in cases of conduct of the authorities, it is this sort of plausible deniability that ought be accepted by the remote-sensing “victim | perpetrator | subject” at issue, as their turn of fate, as it were, whereas it’s obviously not, by and large, I would assume, any such thing, whatsoever, our own creation and responsibility in life, to enact cruelties upon others - we have Christianity as our nation’s official religion, for example, and in that regard, certain things are largely expected of our common societal others, and peers, for example, whereas cruelty is seen as the significant and fundamental tragedy of Christ’s life and experience. Thus, enacting that we are given god-like behavioral opportunities, the impulse to invoke special privileges and exploit attractive opportunities, as it may seem, sometimes becomes compelling - being that, of my sort, I, for example, am commonly alone, yet a compelling profiled victim, for others, common also, that it may be, I find it faulty and fundamentally erroneous, for the sake of that I refuse to believe that complex and intricate modes of understanding, acquaintanceship, and learning could rightfully be expected to transpire for many others, suffering, themselves, from positive schizophrenia symptoms, and whereas I simply do not know the progeny is etymology of my victimizer’s purpose and persona, having only what had formerly, or concurrently, would be reasonable expectations of that I could come to see that these individuals had, for various reasons, chosen to access me, and subsequently, abuse me. My most pervasive experience is that most individuals would not opt to intrude in my life, particularly not of such a degree of abusive spree, and of mayhem. They simply are seen to be casually-failing individuals, quite obviously, I would say, subjects of interrogation, rather than enlightenment, for having chosen to pursue such a volition in life. Aside from that, we stand to experience a golden age in enlightenment, and enjoyment, much more directly, and decisively, if we adhere to standards of etiquette and of a Christian volition, in being acted out, and afforded to others, rather than if we were to (strangely) embody the abuser, in and of ourselves, for that cruelty affords a most primitivistic default to a fight or flight determinacy; whereas benefits are scarcely afforded to the dominant one; dominant, yet not quite equivalently so - the overall victorious one in life. Life is not so cheaply and commonly based upon acts of victory and dominance over others, in the most common experience, and cheaply-wrought experiences of cruelty come to define such victimizers and abusers. 

That all being said, I’d become a consciously-experiencing abuse victim, starting in September of 2012, there were 10 years of explanations that stood to be documented, that I had still been living out, over the course of such abuse, and it takes seven years to become somebody’s common law partner, in life, so I’m not quite done with such things, yet I do dedicate time to disseminating my experience, given that I reasonably identify with the most privileged, and most unaccountable achiever, of various means in life, of interest to others. To simply disavow that I had experienced a well-enough degree of abuses, during this time, or that I could be rightfully held responsible for some of my acts, had been the determinations and judgments, well enough, of the authorities, and it eschews due process to believe that they had not done enough, for valid equivalencies to be levied upon me, for the sake of others, particularly during times in which I simply had not been criminally competent, or of times in which I was experiencing undue abuses, in life. 

A Sunday morning’s pwn’ing of a pigeon-feeding bum - a 12-Steps program confessional episode.

As the literature of the 12 Steps addiction recovery program proscribes, we are to admit that we are powerless over our addiction, and that our lives had become unmanageable. 

The practice of confession, in civil society, dates back hundreds of years, perhaps over a millennia and more (I’m not quite sure, off hand), although events such as the Inquisition, which happened in Europe starting around the 12th century, continuing forth for hundreds of years, would perhaps be the most notable historical time period and setting which we would correlate with the preeminence of the Catholic Church. Obviously, confessing is a difficult and humbling thing, to say the least. I’ve not raised a child, personally, but my own imprinting, from my nurturing environment, was a slightly heavy-handed period of discipline upon myself; my father not having been much of an intelligent man, of some sort of faculty of insight and breakthrough, as far as having attained a more perseverant and empathetic affect for us. 

That being said, I spent much of my childhood years, through my young adult life, fraught with dishonest slips of disclosure, characterized by a subconscious fear of being reprimanded cruelly by others, coupled with the inclusion of willingly intended acts of deception, which would correlate with the trait of caring to please others, and appear to be well and upright, in disciplinary terms. Having been an abuse victim, in my younger years, less-efficient and less-productive traits saw their way through in to my developmental maturity paradigm, in other words, and looking back, I would have sought better methodologies of progress and self-representation, whereas the mysteries as to whether or not a person is depraved, as a dishonest person, in this day and age - prior to the brain-computer interfacing adjunct intellectual evolutionary era of development and understanding - in many various social and technological sciences being affected and dependent upon ever-more challenging and demanding standards of understanding and of communication, we face an imminent existential crisis, each unto ourselves, yet, in the age of the mind, to come, a well-minded person would most commonly seek to persist, and to thrive, whereas in keeping with inclusions of “what’s necessary” for survival, being the primary driving impetus in establishing our prescience in … 

Eh. Maybe that’s all. I crashed my definition check basis in implementing prescience, just to be sure of things, and I’m generally sure that it ought to fit appropriately, according to logic, but I was just saying… just remarking on the confessions and admissions that had been going on, for me (in my mind), and it’s obviously a complex set of contexts and issues which could have words put to them, although people are supposed to be afforded their anonymity, in the 12 Steps program. I stopped where I determined that I had been challenged by my own ambitions to have my place stated, appropriately, and accessibly, for including prescience - even though I feel that it was a good enough logical adjunct as for communicating what would have come, from out of that. I figure that if I’d crashed the definition engine, it’s possibly not affording accessibility to the common person. 

Oh, okay. Update: apparently I’m … 

Well, never mind. It was just a connection glitch on my iPad Pro. I’ll stop, in any case, but here’s the definition of prescience, just for fun. It turns out, it’s actually somewhat just been characterized in the above paragraph.

Some scraped intelligence, from Apple Search, to feed contexts and discovery in to Google Search.

 Is crypto literally simply founded upon illicit drug use and gang affiliations? - as the commonly, albeit slight, popular belief of the masses, had come to the fore? 

Who hadn’t slighted that belief, for staying up on news feeds during the pandemic, etc.? Who hadn’t experienced some sort of detriment, as a result of gang affiliated individuals collectivizing, gathering, creeping, and targeting victims? It’s been a quite blatant context of unknown extents, in my life; partially apparently due to the inclusion of heroin in to the personas - granted, I’m not completely immune from prosecution here, as a regular methamphetamine user, but I am trying to clamp down this notion of drug abstinence, and solace; of contentment in my standard self. I’ve been seeking ways in which I can instill practices, and disciplined formative traits in myself, in rebuilding a resilient and immune identity, where feigned disbelief intersects with the truth, for how much the remote-sensing quadrants operators and engineers could, or might, imbue me with some higher power that exists, out of a more or less faulty persona that could aught be supposed of a drug-abusing individual, for that these things are deemed to be unlawful. (I had a slight notion of starting beyond, at “albeit,” in this moment). 

A picture gleaned upon Apple’s Search processes suggests a dark intimation of what construes a highly popularized and centrifugal financial behemoth, given cryptocurrency’s moment in the spotlight, for having been novel, whereas now, the details are under federal government scrutiny and international regulations, constraints, and rebuke, of various issues at context, given cryptocurrency.

These sorts of Nijinsky are scarcely so autocorrected, contextually deeply-dug, such as “I doo-doo,” the claim. Who could remember, beyond the novelty? 

Ah, Nijinsky. Had I not even known - is what’s had had had happened - trying to regain traction, here. These autocorrect things, these days, with the introduction of “actual” improvements, bearing upon contextual intelligences, of machine learning, and of artificial intelligence - Apple and Google both, as big tech awrr rawr rawr rough and tough contenders to the popular titles of achievement and progress upon linguistic and visual perceptual GANs (Generative Adversarial Networks), and ooo… I had a dedicated and obsessive adversary, whereas I was more intent, on the keyboard, upon a “ab” (awkward, but that’s how I projected, in vivo, the sentence ought to be composed, d hoc, and improvisatorily, of an organic discovery and discernment upon the topic, thereof, and for that matter. 

Remembering? Well, that’s a bit tough, when I’m me, of the standards that I’d imposed upon others, whereas I’m a skilled typist, on mobile, and these autocorrect things… fwoppin’ bwopp? Priceless…?! et cie novelty-minded crumbs and knickknacks, of the minded-so aught of, thereupon, of outpacing this detriment - we have the written accord, of the textual nature, and composition’s … umm… there’s some legal term for this sort of dispatch. Not quite disposition, or exposition, butt shittle? … “even better,” it had once come to pass, upon the notion of cruising, at issue, of a legal matter… 

With that sort of GAN at formative construct, in nature, we could just opt to rebuild life, from the bitsies, and the pieces, of what had transpired, of on piss? Muah. 

Just maybe. 

But okay. That was an example of a Generative Adversarial Network, I’d suppose, and it just popped up, out of convenience. I’m the gritty-enough (un-)editorial drafts-type and typist to render that rawr awrr rough and tough little bitsies, crumbs, and knickknacks, fweef! 

And now, who could remember anything, once again? What matters? Who cares? All things had been taken care of, here, butt shittle? It’s all taken care of, here, already. 

Alright. The latest topic is that a man encountered me, the other day; a guy of a common; a more common sort, that I am, I’ll just be upfront about it - at least, of what he presented to me, but at least (once again - the GAN context impetuous underlying developing purpose at stake, of becoming less relevant, here) - at least he had artistic aspirations and offerings about himself. That was decent, I could say. What he said, though, of a different establishment, of the acquaintanceship, was that “it’s easy to hurt people.” Disregarding all else, that was an offensive superficial thing to flout, I felt. Bringing it to the current moment, I’m reminded of that I feed the pigeons, and the sparrows, and I try to sustain life, of these birds, out in the urban wild, as it were. These blogs are supposed to sustain the purpose and prescience of the guy who does that (me), and I happen to be the guy who does that, as me. I’m pinioned, as a guy who thinks of himself, to an unexpected extent, I suppose, and I guess that that makes me one who disregards people. I just feel like it’s appropriate. I did it to the guy, at one point, because he was flouting a certain type of inflection and intimation upon me, of which I find useless and condescending, whereas I had this slight pigeons and friends home art exhibition thing that I use as my sociable ladder, to climb in to casual civic “bed,” as it were, as for someone opening up to a notion of really getting to know me - the birds, the feeding, the art, the blogs, etc. 

Possibly, however, “the guy” has some of that sort of trait to him, in and of his own right, it’s just that I was a bit put off by his casual nature. It’s like, doo-doo comes first, then nobody can remember anything anymore. 

Ha.  

I couldn’t even… I just imagine that likewise, nobody else could, except that sometimes, I have this backing of a transcript dictaphoneur specialties-professionalism, in “somebody’s” higher authority stance, over me, whereas I experience problems, commonly, for enjoying myself, for example, on, like, a work day, and work day hours, for that matter, whereas I try to uphold a definition and reputation of a standard-classed man, for the people, and I let off flouted bitsies of the truth, in my admissions about stuff that I’d otherwise be known to do. 

The point, beyond all else, however, is a bit simple, of a premise. It’s about personal freedoms, somewhat, and it’s somewhat about boundaries. Now, given, I was wearing women’s balloon pants, and a poncho, and I looked a bit uncommon, as for myself. I don’t know what it was, I suppose. Maybe it was the smoking. The smoking in the household thing. I didn’t partake, because it was a pookie (a blown glass pipe used for smoking crystalline or resinous [oils] substances) - I’ve got no taste for that. Maybe that’s the non-pareil of establishment, here, supposing that people think, whatsoever. 

Alright, that was French, I’ll admit. Butt shittle? Not all that much for the better, as it turns out. But I did pull out a Nijinsky, and who could refrain from researching that thread of intelligentsia bitsies… 

*~<°^•>=/* just imagine, though, Nijinsky. Some people know Nijinsky like we were brought up on Lé Coqué-tard. Russian imperial, versus French modernism ex imaginative fwopp-lore. 

I suppose that, in the end, I’m just trying to find my suitable place, in the aesthetic of suitable geometries or placement in serendipity, amongst others, and I didn’t even watch the movie. I don’t, no. I doo-doo. I don’t quite understand… butt shittle? Some people just don’t read my shit, is what’s (I guess), the issue, whereas it’s so seemingly awfully compelling to the lower mindsets of individuals, and of responsibility.